


Ipsa Me Consolata Sunt

by Robomantic



Series: Every Tool is a Weapon (If You Hold it Right) [4]
Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Anal Sex, Angst, Begging, Biting, Dirty Talk, Hunter Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Marking, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Derek, Rough Sex, Scarification, Scratching, Sexual Violence, Teasing, Violence, mentions of soulless sam, sex as an emotional outlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 13:13:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robomantic/pseuds/Robomantic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>They comfort me</em>
</p><p>The really crazy shit had a habit of happening when you least expected it.  To be fair, Stiles wouldn’t have expected this in a million years.  He would have been less surprised had a banshee showed up and started doing the Macarena because there, sitting in a bar in The-middle-of-fucking-nowhere Kansas, was Derek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ipsa Me Consolata Sunt

**Author's Note:**

> I think I warned tagged well enough to warn about the rough and violent sex to come. There's also some bleeding mentioned in passing from bites and scratches and what have you so if that bothers you... well if that bothers you then there's no way you read the last part of this series lol.

Stiles had a delightfully uneventful few weeks after his last run in with Sam. In fact, he might have even gone so far as to call it a vacation. He kept busy with a few simple salt and burns, but otherwise it was pretty much smooth sailing. 

The break was definitely welcome. His nerves were a little shot after the Sam Incident Part 2 (that’s what he was calling it now). Not to mention that damn mark on his hip had been a real bitch. His waistband rubbed against it constantly and when he actually had to run it felt like it was going to catch fire from the slightest friction. 

Stiles had been pretty vigilant about keeping it clean and bandaged up. He already knew it was going to scar like a son of a bitch (Sam had made sure of that and Stiles hadn’t found a way to counteract it yet), but he didn’t need to deal with an infection on top of it. It started healing up nicely and Stiles figured the rest and relaxation was due at least some of the credit. 

Of course, the really crazy shit had a habit of happening when you least expected it. To be fair, Stiles wouldn’t have expected this in a million years. He would have been less surprised had a banshee showed up and started doing the Macarena because there, sitting in a bar in The-middle-of-fucking-nowhere Kansas, was Derek. 

Stiles froze right where he stood. He had seen enough in his life that not much shocked him anymore, but this was enough to shut his mind down completely. He’d travelled so much in the last few years and somehow he’d never found a single trace of Derek. Running into him now, after he had accepted the fact that he would likely never see him again, was… unreal. 

Unfortunately, Derek must have recognized his smell or maybe he just noticed the sound of a heart beating right out of someone’s chest, because he turned to the side and caught Stiles’s eye. 

Derek’s eyes went wide. He was obviously as shocked to see Stiles as Stiles was to see him. Hell, Derek probably thought he had stayed in Beacon Hills and finished school, maybe even moved on to college. The very thought of the life he might, and should, have had rose up like bile in Stiles’s throat and seemed to reboot his brain. 

Stiles turned on his heel and headed right back out the door. Derek followed him out, but Stiles ignored him and went straight for the trunk of his Jeep. 

“Stiles! Wait!” Derek yelled. Stiles didn’t so much as pause. He reached in his duffle bag and grabbed something that looked like a long nightstick and just as Derek approached him, he swung out and struck him the face with it. Stiles gave a small mental nod of thanks to the guy that had made the club for him. Mountain ash was a wonderful thing. 

“Stiles, fucking stop for one second!” Derek snarled. He had partially wolfed out and was trying to regain control. Luckily, none of the drunks were paying much attention. Apparently random brawls in the parking lot weren’t too rare around these parts. 

Stiles didn’t give him the chance to say anything else before he was on him again. He wasn’t even sure what he was trying to accomplish, just that he needed to make Derek hurt. He needed it like he needed air at that moment. 

Derek managed to dodge one of Stiles’s blows and used the opportunity to knock him off balance. Stiles caught himself before he could fall, but it was enough to weaken his grip and make him drop his club. The fact that his hands had been shaking since the moment he set eyes on Derek certainly hadn’t helped. 

Derek backed Stiles up against the side of the bar and pinned him to the wall with his forearm pressed across Stiles’s chest. He wasn’t fully beta’d out, but his eyes were glowing red and his canines were extended. 

“Can you calm down for one fucking second?” He growled. 

“No! No, I fucking can’t calm down, you piece of shit! You… You have no fucking clue.” Stiles snapped. 

“What the hell are you doing here? You’re not even old enough to drink.” Derek said, his face human again. 

“You’re… you’re kidding right? That is the least of the things that are wrong with this picture.” Stiles growled. He let his body relax and stopped fighting, but when Derek loosened his grip slightly he took the opportunity to knee him in the groin. Derek doubled over long enough for Stiles to lunge for the club on the ground. Unfortunately Derek had a quick recovery time and he tackled Stiles to the ground before he could grasp it. Stiles had been reaching out for the club when Derek knocked him down and he couldn’t get his arms under him fast enough to brace himself properly. He felt an explosion of pain as his temple smacked against the asphalt and the world went white. 

Stiles blinked for a moment and looked up to find Derek looming over him. The bastard actually had the _audacity_ to look concerned. Stiles started laughing and didn’t stop until his abs were sore and his eyes were wet with tears. How the fuck was this real? 

“You’re absolutely fucking crazy.” Derek said, looking both awed and terrified. 

“You really have no clue.” Stiles said, and because he couldn’t seem to kill Derek or even kick his ass properly, he did the only other thing he could in the situation, he grabbed Derek by the front of his shirt and yanked him down into a kiss. 

Stiles kissed Derek so hard he tasted blood where his teeth caught Derek’s lips. He kissed him with every ounce of hate and love in him because the two had become so tangled in his mind he couldn’t even be sure which was which anymore. There was the memory of Derek that he’d known since he was kid and worshipped like a demi-god and the ghost of a Derek that abandoned him and betrayed him and inspired a rage in him like nothing else ever could; Stiles was kissing them both in equal measure.

Derek kissed him back just as fervently, hands braced against the shattered glass and gravel littering the pavement. Stiles could smell blood and booze and the oil staining the ground. Everything hurt as much as it was pleasurable and it seemed like the perfect summation of everything they were to each other. 

At some point, Derek managed to wrest Stiles’s keys from his pocket and he dragged Stiles into the jeep by his shirt, never pulling his mouth away for more than a second until he shoved him in the passenger seat. The moment Derek climbed in and started the car, Stiles was on him, kissing and biting every inch of him he could reach without causing a wreck because he knew it was dangerous to leave empty silence between them. One of them might try to talk again and that just… They just couldn’t do that yet.

Derek pulled up to what must have been his motel. The moment he parked he was grabbing Stiles and yanking him toward his room. Stiles wasn’t going to complain about the manhandling if it got them to the room quicker. In fact, he had his hand down the front of Derek’s pants before Derek had even gotten the key in the door. 

They entered the room like a car crash, slamming into walls and knocking into the table. Stiles didn’t bother to hold back as he clutched and clawed and bit at Derek because he knew he could take it… and he felt a certain amount of sick pride at the sight of blood under his fingernails. He was grateful that Derek was following his lead rather than treating Stiles like he was made of porcelain. Stiles was fairly certain that Derek might have been like that with them had they done this back before everything went to shit, but it would have killed him if Derek had tried it now. 

No, Derek knew things had changed a lot since he left Stiles crying on the McCalls’ stairs. He didn’t know what or why, not yet, but he fucking knew. Stiles was not breakable. He was already broken. 

Derek grabbed Stiles and lifted his ass onto the dresser, shoving him back against the mirror so hard it shattered. Stiles had two thoughts in quick succession; one was whether or not someone might call the police (but that was quickly forgotten the moment he remembered the state of the shithole motel they were in) and the next was about the seven years of bad luck they’d just earned and that made him laugh again, even as Derek tried to kiss him quiet. 

Stiles shoved Derek back long enough to yank his shirt up. He couldn’t remember when Derek had taken off his leather jacket. For all he knew it was lying on the ground back at the bar. While Derek pulled his tee shirt the rest of the way off his head Stiles pulled off his own and started unbuttoning his jeans, completely unaware that Derek was standing completely still and staring. 

Stiles hadn’t really thought about just how different he must have looked since the last time Derek had seen him until that moment. His once pale skin was now tan and he’d let his hair grow out, but the rest of the changes weren’t as obvious until he was stripped down. His body had gone from soft flesh over subtle dips and valleys to something harder and sharper. While he would never have Derek’s bulk, he was at least as defined. He used to make fun of Derek’s almost obsessive workouts, but now he couldn’t afford to do anything less. Not when the slightest weakness might cost him his life. 

Stiles knew it wasn’t the changes in his physique that were shocking Derek to stillness, though. It was the scars that decorated almost every section of his torso. There were red angry looking claw marks, pale silver scratches, various different bite marks (Stiles didn’t waste his salve on the ones that weren’t openly visible), at least three knife wounds (including a particularly nasty one where he had been stabbed in the shoulder) and a single bullet wound on his right bicep. During his little mini vacation, Stiles had also taken a page out of Sam Winchester’s book and gotten an anti-possession tattoo (his was just below his belly button, because, well, because it was just fucking sexy there and it already hurt to wear pants anyway). Then there were the still-fresh and bright marks of Sam’s initials carved into Stiles’s hip. That, in particular, seemed to hold Derek’s attention. 

“What the hell is that?” Derek growled. If he hadn’t already been half wolfed out from the violent make out session, he certainly would have been now. Something dangerous flashed in his eyes that immediately set Stiles’s adrenaline to pumping. He’d seen that look before. That was the look something got when it was thinking about killing. 

“Just a souvenir.” Stiles said. Derek growled and shoved up against him. Stiles tried to flatten his back carefully to avoid getting cut on the shattered remnants of the mirror. 

“You let someone mark you like that?” Derek growled, sounding about a mile away from human. 

“Hey, you throw something away don’t be surprised when someone else claims it.” Stiles snapped, and then added, “Anyway, _’let'_ might be too strong a word…” 

Derek just made another wordless noise that was part growl and part roar and pulled Stiles away from the mirror to toss him on the bed. Stiles winced, but it felt like the cuts on his back would be superficial, no worse than anything else he’d dealt with. It still wasn’t particularly comfortable to be lying on his back, but he wasn’t going to complain when Derek had that look in his eyes. 

If Stiles was turned on by danger, then that look was pure fucking pornography. Derek yanked Stiles’s pants off and made an irritated noise at the prospect of trying to get Stiles out of his underwear. Impatience won out, and the underwear were shredded. Derek wasn’t quite careful enough to prevent his claws leaving a few shallow scratches, but at this point what were a few more little nicks?

Derek started kissing and licking Stiles’s body like he wanted to devour him. Stiles couldn’t contain his moans (and occasionally yelps when Derek got a little too bitey) and Derek hummed in approval at every noise. Derek moved to Stiles’s dick with just as much enthusiasm and Stiles completely lost his breath when Derek swallowed him down to the root with no pretense. 

Stiles tried to hold out as long as he could but Derek was sucking him down with wet messy slurps like his life depended on making Stiles come as quickly as possible. Derek slipped a finger into his mouth along with Stiles’s cock and got it slick and wet with saliva and precome. When he slid that finger against Stiles’s taint, Stiles couldn’t hold on any longer and shot down Derek’s throat with a moan and a shudder. 

Derek didn’t waste any time in flipping Stiles over, pressing his sticky over-sensitive cock into the sheets. Derek spread him open and spit, sliding his finger through the mess and working it in to Stiles’s hole with shallow thrusts of his finger. 

“Derek wait… lube?” Stiles managed to say even as he bucked his hips back onto Derek’s probing finger. He’d gotten a handful of what Derek was packing and he wasn’t about to rely on spit alone to ease the way. Derek pulled away with a frustrated growl to dig through his bag and grab a bottle of lotion. Close enough, Stiles figured.

Apparently acquiring the lotion was enough of an interruption to put an end to Derek’s patience. When he turned his attention back to Stiles, he skipped from one finger right up to three. His other hand held Stiles open with a bruising grip on his ass. 

“Come on, I’m ready.” Stiles panted out. He wondered if Derek could hear his heart skip on the lie, but if he did it didn’t seem to deter him any. He yanked Stiles up to his knees and Stiles gasped when his fingers grazed Sam’s mark. The reminder that Stiles had been marked by someone else spurred Derek on with renewed vigor. He sunk into Stiles in one long thrust and Stiles felt his eyes water at the burning ache. 

“Wanted you like this for so long.” Derek growled and Stiles wondered if he realized what a fucking punch in the gut that was. If he weren’t so distracted by the way Derek was stretching him open, he would have had a few things to say to Derek on that subject. He would have told Derek he should have taken him back then. Everyone would have been a lot better off. Maybe then Derek wouldn’t have gone off with Kate and…. 

No. Those thoughts would have to wait for later. Derek was filling Stiles up too much to leave room for anything else. 

“I should have had you first. Should have marked you for myself before anyone else could have you. Shoulda fucked you so hard no one would ever be enough for you again.” Derek growled and Stiles was a little terrified that he might be currently achieving that last goal. His body jolted forward on the bed with each thrust until he had to brace himself against the headboard. 

Every deep slide of Derek’s thick cock made Stiles’s own thicken up until he was fully hard again and well on his way to a second orgasm. If he’d had a free hand to jack himself with he probably would have been there already, but both his hands were currently occupied with bracing him against the headboard. Stiles figured the fact that no one had come to complain about the bed slamming into the wall meant the next room over had to be empty. Well between that and the mirror shattering. 

Derek spread Stiles apart as he fucked him and he knew Derek was watching as his cock slid in and out Stiles’s tight pink hole. He wished he could see it too, but he would settle for feeling it. The feeling of being so open and exposed didn’t fail to send a delightful shiver down Stiles’s spine. 

“You’re taking it so good. You’re meant for this. Meant for my cock in you.” Derek growled. Coming from anyone else it might have sounded presumptuous, but with Derek it managed to ring true. Even with all his resentments, Stiles couldn’t help thinking this was inevitable. Despite everything Derek had done, finally having him felt like he’d finally filled the empty place he’d forgotten was there. That feeling was what made Derek more dangerous than Sam by far. 

“Derek, touch me. I need it.” Stiles pleaded. Derek nipped at his earlobe and leaned into whisper, “I don’t think you do.” Stiles felt Derek grip his cock, but his hand didn’t move, leaving Stiles to fuck into his fist desperately. 

“Come on, make yourself come for me.” Derek said and Stiles realized he’d also stopped thrusting. Derek had made it so Stiles would have to thrust himself back on his cock and forward into his hand. Stiles let out a little whine of frustration, but Derek didn’t budge. 

“Derek, fuck! I need more, just fuck me!” Stiles growled. 

“Beg me for it. Show me how bad you want it.” Derek said and if Stiles hadn’t already felt the slight pinch of Derek’s claws he would have known he was wolfed out again by the sound of his voice. It made Stiles think of all the times he’d imagined this. Fantasies of Derek had been Stiles’s bread and butter throughout puberty, but they were pale imitations of the real thing. It might have been better if Derek had been disappointing. Then maybe Stiles wouldn’t have been so entirely at his mercy. 

“Please Derek, just fucking give me more. I need you to make me yours.” Stiles begged. Derek’s possessive urges kicked in at that and he began to fuck Stiles with renewed vigor. Stiles almost cried with relief. Derek had been pounding him so good; it would have been such a disappointment to have to come without the shuddering force of Derek against him. 

“You _are_ mine. No fucking mark will ever change that. You were always mine. “Derek snarled. He wasn’t wrong, but Stiles knew that accepting that didn’t actually change anything. He also knew that, in a way, it didn’t make Sam’s mark any less valid. Not if the rule of finders keepers was worth anything, at least. 

As much as Derek might have wished he could have been the first, the truth was that he hadn’t been there and Sam had. Whatever he had with Sam, it was nothing like the bone deep tie he had to Derek, but it was powerful in its own strange cold way. He belonged to Derek like a person, but he belonged to Sam like a weapon. 

“Yours.” Stiles gasped out and for a second he’d actually forgotten who he was talking to. He couldn’t even bring himself to feel guilty about it. 

Derek finally started stroking Stiles’s cock and it didn’t take long for Stiles to come with Derek whispering dirty praises and encouragement. Derek pulled his hand away and Stiles could hear him licking the mess from his fingers. He wasn’t sure if he should be disappointed or relieved that he hadn’t mojo’d himself up like he’d done with Sam before. He hadn’t had the heart to since Sam had punished him for it the last time. Still, he might regret not having the opportunity for a clean getaway after all was said and done. 

Derek pulled Stiles back against his chest and started to come in shuddering rhythm-less thrusts. As his orgasm peaked he dug his claws into the back of Stiles’s hips, no doubt aching to leave his own mark on Stiles, made all the better for the fact that it would be obvious exactly what they were from; a visual representation of the way Derek had gripped him as he fucked his claim into him. 

Derek didn’t pull out; he just collapsed down on top of Stiles and rolled them to their sides. Stiles wondered if that urge to stay inside him as long as possible was a wolf thing or a Derek thing. The idea of prolonged contact after sex (Stiles wasn’t quite ready to call it cuddling) was certainly new for Stiles. The idea of Sam cuddling almost made him laugh out loud. He would have told Derek that it was something he got to have first, but he didn’t really want to encourage him. 

“You know I’m not staying with you.” Stiles said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I thought as much.” Derek said, but he didn’t stop stroking Stiles’s side and he still didn’t pull out. After a pause he added, “Doesn’t change anything, though.” 

“What do you mean?” Stiles asked even though he suspected he already knew. He’d already thought as much himself. 

“You’re still mine. I’ll find you again.” Derek said and pressed a kiss against the back of Stiles’s neck. They both ignored the unsaid sentiment that maybe they’d be ready then. Neither of them lived the kind of life that gave them room for that much hope. They’d both learned their lesson about hope a long time ago. Stiles just leaned back into Derek’s touch and let himself enjoy the feeling for a little bit longer. 

Stiles knew that at some point soon, the afterglow would fade. Derek would pull out and they’d be left sticky and cold in the destroyed room. They’d have to shower away the blood and come and avoid stepping on the shattered glass littering the floor. Stiles also knew Derek had to realize what Stiles did now and he knew Derek’s opinion of hunters. Hell, they both should have hated hunters after what Kate had done, but Stiles had become a hunter long before he learned one of them was responsible for the deaths of the people they loved. 

Until they actually had to face reality, Stiles was going to bask in a feeling he hadn’t had in years; the feeling of having a family. It was a double edged sword. One the one side there was the feeling of having at least one person in the entire world to miss you when you were gone and wonder where you were when you disappeared and then there was the feeling of missing someone and feeling their loss every second they were gone. 

For the moment, at least, it was worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out [my tumblr](http://cultofcastiel.tumblr.com/) over here. Pretty much a Teen Wolf and Supernatural fandom blog, if you're into that sorta thing :)


End file.
